


I Walked Into Love With You

by j_gabrielle



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: 5 + 1, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Deja Vu, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: The five lifetimes and universes of almost and maybes, and the one they were together





	I Walked Into Love With You

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a quote taken from 'The Chaos of Stars' by Kiersten White

1.

Valery had been fussing with his daughter's hair, when his wife comes to get him.

"He's here," She hisses, eyes big and almost demonically excited. He doesn't have to ask who; she's done nothing but talk about Boris, her new boss from work "oh, I do hope he can find the time to come it would be wonderful if he did". Valery refrains from saying anything about how she just wants him at their party for gossip fodder, and to be the talk of the office come Monday.

But she's his wife, and he's her husband, so he plays along.

"How do I look?" She says, fussing with her skirt. Valery assures her that she looks wonderful, and receives in return, a little tilt of the head and a glint in her eyes that says, 'Oh, you blind fool'. She has always been perfect to him, and he loves her as he should. He smiles and takes her hand.

He suddenly remembers about the fish, when she comes to a halt in their entranceway, digging her bright red nails into his arm. "Valery, this is my boss. Mr Boris Shcherbina. Sir, my husband Valery," She introduces them with a happy lilt in her voice.

 Valery looks up, and finds his breath catching in his throat.

Boris is all stern lines and unspoken power. His eyes, in the dim light of their home, is a shadowed grey, but Valery is sure that should he see them in the sun or the moonlight, they would reflect an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colours. His hair is perfectly swept up, and Valery, in his sudden insanity, wants to touch it. Does it feel like how it looks; soft and downy, or will it feel textured with products that will give way if he curls his fingers through them?

" _Valery_."

She's staring at him like he's gone mad. He feels his face heat up. Maybe he has.

"I'm sorry," He stutters, holding a nervous hand out that Boris takes and shakes. "I just remembered the fish."

"Well, don't let me keep you from the fish," Boris says, voice sandpaper rough. Valery jumps back, and nods. Fleeing to the kitchen before he can make a further fool of himself. And as he does, he feels the weighted gaze of shadowed eyes follow him.

 

2.

"...are you?"

Boris purses his lips. Knocking back his shot of vodka, he turns to the man beside him. In all honesty, even if he doesn't make a habit of it, if this was another night, another him, he wouldn't have hesitated in purchasing the man's time. The man is beautiful; big doe-like eyes, full cocksucking lips that were made to be abused, a thin slender body that would ride him like a dream. But not tonight. Tonight he is just not feeling it.

He shrugs, the corner of his lips curling in a minuscule smile of apology. "Your loss," The man says, but not before slipping in his number on a bit of paper. 

There's been an itch in the back of his head all day. Crawling under his skin like some anticipatory worm, tugging at all his senses. He'd thought it was just the seasonal flu. Maybe he's caught the bug that's been making its rounds round the office. Whatever it was, it has had him looking over his shoulders for some ineffable reason, for something or someone that should be there. It's the worst deja vu.

Boris signals the bartender for another shot. 

Maybe he just needs a good night's sleep. God knows he hasn't been getting enough in his new flat; unfamiliar places will do that to a man, and no matter how much he's tried in the last three months, there's just something that keeps him tossing and turning in his bed. Boris has a rule of not bringing his conquests home, no matter how pretty they were, but maybe he should start. He has always slept better with another body next to him, any how.

He turns to look at the clock above the bar. It's getting late, and the music has started to change into something faster for the dance floor. He finishes his drink and pays his tab, grabbing his coat to leave when he spots the man talking to the most unfortunate soul to be wearing coke-bottle glasses and a deep tan suit seated at the other end of the bar. The unfortunate soul is clearly uncomfortable; body language shying away from the man, and looking every bit like a scared rabbit.

Being someone's knight in shining armour was not on the agenda tonight, but he walks over nonetheless, putting his most winning smile. "Oh, there you are! I thought you were not coming!" He says, eyes willing the unfortunate soul to play along.

Thankfully, he does. "A-ah, yes! Traffic, is all... I didn't see you earlier?"

"I was seated there, and the lighting's shit here, so don't worry about it," Boris tilts his head. "Shall we find a quieter spot?"

To the man, who seems rather put out, he says, "If you'd just excuse my friend and I." He guides the unfortunate soul round the side of the building to an outdoor garden where the thumping of the music is dulled out, and the air was more cigarettes and conversations. "I'm sorry, but I had to intervene. You look like you were about to have a heart attack." He laughs.

The unfortunate soul ducks his head, a sweet curl of amusement on his lips before he chuckles, quiet and soft like he's afraid of letting the world in on some private joke. "It's fine, and I was. Thank you...?"

"Boris."

"Boris," He says, rolling the syllables round in his mouth like he's tasting them for the first time. "I'm Valery."

"Hello Valery," Boris says. "It's nice to meet you." Valery averts his gaze demurely, and oh, doesn't that just make something deep in him purr with want. 

 

3. 

The bookstore is sublimely quiet, and Valery is settling in his second favourite armchair with his cocoa when the bell over the door rings with a satanic glee that could only mean the arrival of--

"Hello Boris, is it that time again?" He greets the barrel-chested, intimidating hulk of a man who stalks over to him, feet barely touching the faded mismatched Turkish rugs that pad the hardwood floor.

"Yes," Boris growls. His teeth elongate wolf-like for a moment before shifting back to normal human canines. He sniffs the air, brows furrowing when he turns to Valery. "Was someone else here?"

"Hm? Oh," Valery looks around him, as if he just realised something. "Yes, Ulana was here earlier to pick up an order. Is it...?"

"Her perfume," Boris spits out, closing a paw of a hand over his nose. Valery quickly goes to the cupboard and pulls out their special candles, setting them in all the corners of the room and lighting them in quick order. It's eucalyptus, and while Valery doesn't care for the scent very much, Boris has said that it's one of the few smells he can bear when he is like this. 

"Better?"

Boris looks a bit feral at his edges, but his stormy eyes have lost the tinge of murder. "A little."

Valery nods. "Go to my room. I'll lock up and join you--"

Strong arms grab him and pull him into a tight embrace. The nose against his neck breathes deep, and he can feel the low rumble from Boris' chest emanating against his. Instinctively, he reaches up to gently stroke down Boris' back. He feels unnaturally warm. It's coming. He turns his head, relaxing himself. "Boris?"

"I've missed you," Boris says quietly. Valery allows himself a small smile. Brushing his lips against the shell of an ear, he kisses the side of his head.

"I've missed you too." The words do not carry an ounce of untruth. Even if their contract had prohibited any emotions from being involved in their monthly arrangement, he cannot lie about this, even if he cannot be honest. Carding his fingers through Boris' hair, he slowly coaxes him to release him far enough to press their foreheads together. "Go to my room, my love."

Shadowed eyes flash gold for a moment before Boris visibly pulls himself together to give him a short nod. Valery tugs him in for a soft kiss, sighing into the meeting of their heated mouths. "Wait for me."

"Yes," Boris breathes out in a rush, hand tightening on his hip for a moment before sweeping out of the room. Valery takes a beat to listen to him go; tracking his footfalls up his stairs and to his room, before he bites the inside of his cheek, turning to the door to lock it, drawing his blinds with a shaking hand.

 

4.

It stings and burns. 

Boris licks his lips and takes a deep breath. Father won't be pleased to know that he got into another fight at school. Even if this time, he wasn't the one who started it. He flexes his hand, wondering if he should just bite the bullet and go to the school nurse or something, when out of the corner of his eye, he sees a shy gaze peering at him from the shadows of the bleachers.

"You here to thank me?" He says, reaching into his pocket to pull out a crushed cigarette and his lighter. The boy - Valery, if he wasn't mistaken - takes slow and unsure steps towards him. Boris turns to him, assessing. Holding out his lighter, he shows him the state of his good hand. "I think I broke something."

To his credit, Valery scuttles forth quickly. Taking the lighter, he brings the flame to Boris, waits until he has two good puffs down before stepping back. "Thank you," He says in barely louder than a whisper. Boris shrugs.

"Was just itching for a fight, that's all," Boris says. They both fall silent, but it never becomes uncomfortable. Everyone at school knows to avoid Boris. Everyone knows who his Father is, and the roll-call of delinquency he has racked up in the last three schools he's gotten kicked out of. Everyone looks at him like a wild animal, but for some reason, when Valery holds his gaze, there is nothing there but curious fondness. Boris doesn't know what he could've done to be the receiving end of that look, but he cannot say he minds it.

Somewhere in the red bricked building behind them, the bell tolls for the afternoon. Despite his inability to stay out of trouble, Boris hasn't slacked off in his academics. He's got enough modules racked up to graduate by the end of this semester. Soon, he can be free from this place, and his father too, if he has any say in it. Looking over at Valery, he finishes his cigarette, crushing it under his shoe. "I'm sneaking out. You wanna come with?"

Valery looks stunned. "Me?"

"Do you see me talking to anyone else? Yes, you," Boris scoffs. Undoing his tie, he uses the fabric to tie up his knuckles. He picks up his bag, slinging it over a shoulder. "You coming or what?"

Valery, to his credit, doesn't hesitate to fall in step with him.

 

5.

The hotel has no heating, and Boris is sure he is going to regret staying, but she tells him that she is happy enough to snuggle under the covers with him, so he bites back he reservations and smiles for her. It's their honeymoon after all. And they should be happy.

They take the sights just after lunch, both bearing the unspoken hope that by the time they get back, the heating problem will be solved. Boris is pessimistic about their chances. He's taking the millionth picture of her looking wistfully into the distance for her Instagram, when he bumps unseeingly against another person. "Oh, I'm sorry--"

"No, the fault was mine. I--"

The man stops the same time he does. Their breathes wreathing together in the air between them. There is then, a tingling sense of recognition that comes over him. In that moment, Boris feels a cold tug at the back of his skull like a deja vu.

"Hi," He manages.

"Hi," The stranger says, taking a half step to him, when she bounds up to them, hooking an arm around his. 

"Damn, it's so cold!" She laughs, her voice breaking the fragile moment between Boris and the stranger. She doesn't seem to have noticed it, tugging him along as she talks excitedly about what she wants to see next. Boris goes, of course he does, but it doesn't mean he doesn't look back to where the stranger is watching him with the saddest eyes.

 

+1

Boris is asleep when he finally gets home, not waking up even for the kiss he presses to his forehead. Valery smiles when his presence does not even break the rhythm of his husband's snoring. 

He double checks the locks, switching on the coffee machine and setting his alarm before taking a quick shower. While brushing his teeth, he sets out both his and Boris' suits for the morning. Before he turns in for the night, Valery checks both their schedules, and updates their grocery list. It will be a long weekend ahead, and he will be glad for the time he gets to sleep in for once.

He sets his phone to charge, making sure that Boris' is too, and lies down. And just like clockwork, he feels Boris reach out for him; hand patting at the space between their bodies, seeking until he finds Valery's arm or shoulder or chest, and pulls himself closer, burrowing into him as if he wants to dig himself a home under his skin. Valery stays as still as he can, as amused and infinitely besotted by this unconscious act as he was the first time Boris did it. He waits until the snoring starts up again to reach an arm around him, draping it over his waist, smiling, pleased.

Closing his eyes, he drifts into dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> I have never, will never, allow any reposting or translations of my works without my permission. All of my works will and shall only be hosted on my personal accounts on AO3 (j_gabrielle), Dreamwidth (j_gabrielle) and Tumblr (randomingoftherandomness, hardheartshere).
> 
> For those who say that I never said anything, it is clearly stated on my AO3 profile bio.
> 
> I do not have a Twitter account.
> 
> I do not have a Wattpad account.
> 
> **Please Do Not Repost My Fics**


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